Chapter XVI: Checkmated

A mass of jagged, elongated clouds hovered like scowling specters over Azurecrest. A raw wind sighed moodily among the birches and hemlocks as The Gray Phantom reached the apex of the hill. Stopping within fifty yards of the high picket fence, he glanced toward the house that once had served him as a retreat and shelter against the activities of the police. The white trimmings of doors and windows gleamed faintly in the dusk and here and there a light twinkled through the trees.

The Phantom turned away and walked a few paces toward the fence. On the trip from the city he had tried to exclude Helen from his mind, for each thought of her was maddening, and he needed a cool brain and a steady nerve if he were to accomplish his purpose. By sheer force of will he had tried to forget the hysterical laughter he had heard over the wire and which had told him with grim eloquence what had happened to her. To keep disturbing thoughts from his mind, he had outlined several plans of procedure and prepared himself for the difficult and perilous task that awaited him.

After a brief search over the rugged ground, he stopped at the side of a huge bowlder and cleared away an accumulation of dry twigs, dead branches, and rotting weeds. After the obstruction had been removed, an opening barely large enough to permit him to crawl through appeared at the base of the rock. It slanted gently into the ground, then widened into a tunnel in which he was able to walk upright. During his sojourn at Azurecrest it had often occurred to him that an emergency exit might some day prove desirable, and he had built the tunnel in consequence. He had not happened to mention the existence of the passage when he sold the place, and he did not think it likely that the new owner had discovered it. Though he had never had occasion to use it during his occupancy, it now gave him a distinct advantage in that it enabled him to enter the house secretly and by an easy route.

Reaching the farther end of the tunnel, he fumbled along the wall until he found a spring deftly hidden in a crevice. Evidently the mechanism was still in good working order, for a door swung squeakily on unoiled hinges. He passed inside, touched another spring, and the door swung shut. In another moment he had switched on an electric light.

The room was narrow and almost square, and there were neither windows nor visible doors. It was supplied with air through ingeniously hidden ventilators and The Phantom had fitted it up for brief occupancy. Occasionally it had suited his mood to retire to the hidden chamber and read one of his favorite books.

Throwing off the light overcoat he had been wearing, he then examined his automatic and the little pocket case in which he carried a number of carefully selected tools that had stood him in good stead in numerous emergencies. Despite the advantages afforded him by the tunnel and the secret room, he would be surrounded by dangers at every step. He had no doubt Mr. Shei's henchmen would kill him on sight, and he could not afford to toss his life away recklessly while Helen was in danger.

He glanced at his watch. It was only a little after ten, and sounds reaching him through the ventilator shaft warned him that the occupants of the house were still about. As soon as the house had quieted down a little, he would try the first plan on his programme. If that failed, he was holding two or three others in reserve.

For half an hour he waited, then a sliding panel opened at his touch on a spring, and he ascended a narrow spiral stairway that terminated in what appeared to be a blank wall. His hand touched a lever, and The Phantom passed through an aperture that instantly closed behind him. He was standing in a dark room in a seldom frequented part of the house. He advanced a few steps, then stood still, listening. Someone was laughing, and in the darkness the sounds impressed him even more forcibly than they had in the light of day. He walked on, trying desperately to exclude the agonizing accents from his ears. Hurriedly he opened a door, then as quickly drew it to again. Someone was passing in the hall outside.

He waited till the footsteps moved away, then looked warily out. A tall figure, walking with a brisk, swinging gait, was turning into one of the rooms farther down the corridor. As soon as the door had closed behind him, The Phantom followed on tiptoe. Noticing that the hall was deserted, he bent his ear to the keyhole. Two voices, one of them speaking with a distinct foreign accent, were talking in tones signifying that they had reason to be well pleased with themselves. They were discussing the progress of Mr. Shei's adventure and congratulating themselves on the prospect of becoming immensely rich within a few days.

The Phantom, listening intently, was learning several facts of interest. The two speakers were addressing each other as Doctor Tagala and Mr. Slade, and he gathered from divers remarks that the latter was in charge of affairs at Azurecrest while Mr. Shei was watching developments in New York. Doctor Tagala seemed to be the scientist who had discovered the poison that was the chief factor in Mr. Shei's scheme.

Having absorbed a great deal of useful information, The Phantom raised his head from the keyhole. Then, he flexed his muscles and drew the automatic from his pocket. Here was his opportunity for putting his first plan to the test. It was cruder than the alternative ones, but it might also prove vastly more effective. His hand closed around the knob. With automatic in one hand he softly pushed the door open, entering so silently that for several moments neither of the two men in the room was aware of the intrusion.

He gazed for an instant at the singularly repulsive face of the man addressed as Doctor Tagala, then gave his companion a fleeting glance of inspection, noticing that Slade had the strong jaw and aggressiveness of manners that usually go with a domineering personality. Only the eyes, shifty and unmagnetic, gave him a suspicion that there was a weak strain in the man's moral fiber. Smiling affably, with every nerve in his body atingle, he advanced to the table.

"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said softly.

With a hoarse cry Slade sprang from his chair, but Doctor Tagala gave the intruder only a cold, impersonal glance.

"Sit down, Slade," ordered The Phantom, "and both of you keep your hands on the table." He made a significant gesture with the automatic.

Slade stared and looked as if not quite certain that his eyes were to be trusted.

"How the devil did you get in?" he exclaimed explosively. He tried hard to get a grip on himself, but the twitching of the lines around his mouth showed that he was ill at ease. "But then," he added, steadying his voice with an effort, "I suppose anything is possible for The Gray Phantom."

"Ah, so you are The Gray Phantom." Doctor Tagala seemed mildly impressed. "I have heard a great deal of you, and I have felt some curiosity in regard to you. I must confess to a great disappointment, however. I did not think a man of your genius would descend to such crude methods. Of you I had expected subtlety and finesse. Bah!"

Slade was rapidly regaining his self-control, but he kept his hands obediently on the table. From time to time he cast an uneasy glance into the muzzle of The Phantom's pistol.

"I can't imagine how you got in," he admitted. "How you got past the picket fence, the dogs, and the watchmen is too much for me. But, now that you are here, what do you intend to do? I suppose it has something to do with Miss Hardwick?"

"Precisely, Slade."

The other sneered. "Don't you realize that there's nothing you can do? What you heard over the telephone wire should have warned you to keep hands off. Miss Hardwick's life is absolutely in our power."

"For the present, yes; but I think the situation will soon be reversed."

"How?"

The Phantom's lids contracted and his eyes held a steely glitter as he looked down at the man in the chair. Then he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. At any moment someone was apt to enter and deprive him of his advantage.

"I intend to fight the devil with fire," he announced. "In other words, I am going to fight your Mr. Shei with his own weapons. Mr. Shei works through fear. He hopes to induce his seven victims to surrender half of their fortunes to him by putting the fear of death into them. Now, it's a poor rule that doesn't work both ways."

"Suppose you come to the point," suggested Slade sneeringly.

"Very well. I understand that you, Slade, are in charge here during Mr. Shei's absence. I want you to do two things at once. One of them is to release Miss Hardwick immediately; the other, to have the antidote administered to her."

Slade's eyes left the automatic and gave The Phantom an insolent glance. "A bit dictatorial, aren't you? Has it occurred to you that I might refuse?"

"Certainly." The Phantom smiled, but his eyes were hard as steel. "Mr. Shei has probably considered the possibility that his seven victims may refuse to accept his terms, but he feels fairly sure that in the end they will submit. His whole scheme is based on the idea that a man will do almost anything to escape death. So will you, Slade; especially when I convince you that you will never leave this room alive unless you do as I say."

Slade shifted uneasily in his chair. A tinge of gray was slowly creeping into his face.

"Make no mistake, Slade," The Phantom went on. "It's true there are no bloodstains on my hands, but this time I am gambling for higher stakes than ever before in my life. I could kill you without the slightest scruple."

His eyes, as he looked down at the other man, were keen as rapiers. He spoke each word with an emphasis that spelled terrible earnestness. Slade winced and writhed beneath his lowering gaze.

"What--what do you want me to do?" he stammered.

The Phantom felt a thrill as he saw that the other was yielding. He had judged him correctly at first glance. Slade, despite his swaggers and blustering, was at heart a coward.

"In the first place, you are to instruct Doctor Tagala to administer the antidote to Miss Hardwick immediately. I will give you exactly sixty seconds. If you have not obeyed by that time, you will be a dead man."

To emphasize the threat, The Phantom took out his watch. Slade turned a quavering glance on the scientist. He opened his lips to speak, but Doctor Tagala anticipated him.

"I dislike to interrupt such a dramatic scene," he declared in drawling tones edged with a faint trace of sarcasm, "but it has proceeded far enough. You see, my dear Gray Phantom, that even if Mr. Slade should give me such absurd instructions as you request, I would refuse to comply with them. Furthermore, in order to save you needless waste of energy, let me inform you that the antidote is concealed in a place where I alone know where to find it. We are protected against every conceivable emergency."

The Phantom felt a presentiment of defeat, but his face, tense and threatening, showed not the slightest sign of it. With a quick movement he turned the pistol from Slade and pointed the muzzle straight at Doctor Tagala's head.

"All right, doctor," he said crisply, "in that case let me warn you that I could kill you with just as little scruple as I could Slade."

But the scientist only folded his arms and smiled. A look of patient amusement crossed his swarthy and evil face.

"That is an excellent example of what you Americans call bluff," he drawled. "You can't frighten me, for I know you have not the slightest intention to kill me. If you take my life, the antidote will never be found, and then the charming young lady will die. Mr. Shei anticipated just such a situation as this when he made me the sole custodian of the antidote."

A trace of disappointment passed over The Phantom's face; a sense of bafflement took hold of him as he realized that, thanks to Mr. Shei's ingenious precautions, his first plan had failed disastrously. Still pointing the pistol, he backed slowly toward the door.

"Mr. Shei wins this time," he frankly acknowledged, "but he will lose in the end. The Gray Phantom was never beaten yet. I wish you good-night, gentlemen."

With that he was out of the door and running swiftly down the hall. With a cry of rage Slade sprang from the chair and started in pursuit, blowing a pocket whistle as he ran. Men appeared from every direction, and Slade shouted orders that the house and grounds be thoroughly searched at once. The men scattered, and in a few moments the search was on.

But The Gray Phantom, safe in his hidden chamber, was already at work on the details of his next move.